


Love (By Any Other Name)

by ChouetteAnanas41



Category: Leverage
Genre: F/M, M/M, Multi, Realization
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-26
Updated: 2014-12-26
Packaged: 2018-03-03 14:33:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2854310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChouetteAnanas41/pseuds/ChouetteAnanas41
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eliot fell in love on a Tuesday.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love (By Any Other Name)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BiP](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BiP/gifts).



> [no archive warnings because I don't consider the one short bit of violence to be particularly graphic, but ymmv. it's at the end of the first bit, so if you want zero violence, read until Parker shows up in the first bit and then skip straight down to the second image. images are to tumblr specs because that's what I'm used to, hopefully they don't show up wonky on ao3.]

[ _Eliot didn't fall in love amid flying bullets in the desert_.]

"I might know someone." The words were out of his mouth before he even realized it.

"You know a guy who'd be willing to make his way through an actual minefield - that may or may not still be active - to get to a building we don't have plans for, get through whatever security measures are in place that we can't see, find and break into whatever model safe we don't know about, get the information that may be invaluable or may be completely fucking outdated, and get back out again?! No way, it's too risky. Nobody's that crazy."

"Or that good," chimed in Dumbass #2. The first idiot nodded along, but the man in the center watched Eliot consideringly.

"No. If there's anyone that crazy and that good in the world, Spencer'd know them." He paused and glanced back down at the papers that had prompted the latest frantic planning session before looking up at Eliot again. "You're sure about your guy? He'd really be willing to do this?"

"Yeah. Crazy adrenaline junkie. Be willing to do it just for the thrill of it...and for a lot of cash."

"Your guy got a name? He really that good?"

"Name's Parker, and yeah, I guarantee she can crack any safe there is."

Dumbass #1 exploded again, "we're not seriously listening to this guy?! He's a consultant! A fucking merc! With all due respect, sir, I really don't think -"

"Thank you, Lieutenant Riley, your opinion is noted, although in the future I strongly recommend you do not give it unless I ask for it. Got it?" Vance glared at the man on his left until Lieutenant Riley lowered his gaze before turning back to Eliot. "Make the call, Spencer. Get her to the base in Germany and we can deal with her transpo from there."

Eliot stepped away from the makeshift command center and pulled out the Hardison-modified cell phone given to each person on Nate Ford's new crew to stay in contact until the next job. He really shouldn't call her - really shouldn't have said anything to Vance, but it's too late now, it's already done. And batshit crazy as she might be, it's still true that he doesn't know anyone else who could pull off everything they need and willingly forget about it immediately afterwards.

The phone only rings once.

"Yep?"

"It's Spencer, I got a job for you -"

"Who?"

Eliot barely restrained a groan, "Spencer. It's - it's Eliot. Spencer."

"Oh! Right!" There's a muffled grunt and then a breathless, "job where you are?"

"Yeah, listen, it's classified, there's a U.S. army base in Germany near the -"

"Our phones broadcast GPS coordinates, I'm sure I can hitch a ride to wherever you are. See you."

14 hours, a brief panic about an unidentified aircraft in restricted airspace, and a parachute later, a windblown Parker is beaming brightly at Eliot. "That was so much fun. You guys all looked like tiny little worker ants running around, getting bigger and bigger and bigger. Why'd you try sending me to Germany anyway?"

"Nevermind - just, come on. They're gonna want to move as soon as you can."

"Yo! Spencer!"

They both turned to the soldier waving in their direction.

"You know engines, right?"

"Yeah, hang on." Eliot knocked Parker's arm with his and pointed out the main tent before heading towards Huertas. By the time he got back, it was to find Parker poring over plans with Vance's team of idiots.

"Do you have much experience with PMDs?"

"No, I like shinier things - lasers, electricity, bright lights - bombs are just unnecessarily messy."

 Lieutenant Riley blinked rapidly and opened his mouth, but reconsidered when he glanced at Vance, so Eliot said it for him.

"There's something wrong with you."

Parker smirked and wrinkled her nose at him.

"Do you think you'd be able to recognize and dismantle one?" Vance asked.

Parker looked at him weirdly. "Of course I can."

"Alright. I can't send you in alone, though. You'll take Spencer with you."

 "Fine," Eliot agreed.

It takes less than two hours for everything to go sideways. Eliot and Parker are way ahead of their support team and trapped in the crossfire between warring factions, who the fuck knows and who the fuck cares, with everyone who has a gun too far away from Eliot for him to do anything about it. The familiar glint of sunlight on metal comes from their left and Eliot bodily throws Parker to the ground, exhaling harshly as he feels a burning skim across his shoulder. They're up again in an instant, Parker watching the ground closely and Eliot trying to watch their surroundings and exactly where she steps at the same time. Another glint and Eliot shoves Parker, only to have her shove him back in the opposite direction. Fire shoots through his gut followed by pain and Eliot lands with a hoarse shout only to have Parker roll them both away. A few meters from them - where they would've landed when he tried to shove her down - a mine explodes. Parker's up again before most of the debris lands. Eliot struggles to stand. It takes Parker a dozen steps before she glances behind herself and notices his absence. As she makes her way back, her eyes quickly find the growing bloodstain on his shirt.

"Shit, Spencer's hit! Spencer's hit!"

She wraps an arm around his waist and they stumble towards the overturned truck and relative safety, Parker arguing fiercely with someone over the radio the whole time.

Another glint of sunlight on metal and without a thought Eliot steps in front of her. Another sharp, shooting pain and everything goes momentarily dark.

"Spencer? Spencer!"

There's more darkness and then burning pain all over and the vague sensation of being dragged somewhere.

"Come on, Spencer, you gotta stay with me, okay?"

The dragging stops and Eliot aches all over.

"You called me, remember? You brought me here. You don't get to die on me here, okay?"

There's a sudden firm pressure on his abdomen and Eliot groans.

"Shh, shh, you're okay, Spencer - Eliot, you're gonna be okay, okay? Spencer? El - Eliot?"

All he can see between slow, heavy blinks is blue desert sky and a blonde head encircled by a halo of light.

(Eliot doesn't fall in love to the feel of small, nimble hands slick with his own blood - it's just the adrenaline and shock setting in that's taking away a little of his pain.)

 

[ _Eliot didn't fall in love in a shitty karaoke bar in Boston_.]

"Uh, hey, man, hey, wait!" Hardison grabbed Eliot's sleeve as the team meeting ended and he immediately made to leave. Eliot glared down at his hand and Hardison jerked it back. "Sorry," he chuckled nervously, pretending to dust off Eliot's arm. "I, uh, I was just thinking, y'know, our company - I mean, I made up all of those company picnics and events and stuff for our cover, right? But," he shrugged, "maybe we, uh, we could all go out for real? Y'know, like, a team-building...thing."

"I'm out," Parker said immediately.

"Yes, I have a...thing," Sophie added, following her out the door.

Hardison turned to the other two hopefully. "Boys' night?"

"Uh, yeah, no, I'm not - I gotta - you know, what? Eliot'll go with you."

Eliot looked at Nate incredulously.

"Yeah, Eliot's free, he'll go with you, make sure you stay out of trouble," Nate insisted, making a quick exit.

"Awesome!" Hardison playfully punched Eliot's shoulder. "Just you and me, man! Two good old boys hangin' out!"

Eliot watched Nate go. "Drinks are on you," he told Hardison.

"Absolutely, man, no problem! There's this great bar just around the corner."

With a half-hearted glare at the door the others had all escaped from, Eliot stood up and pulled on his coat. "Yeah, alright, let's go."

"Yes! Alright!" Hardison excitedly led the way, trying to make small talk the whole - albeit short - walk over. Eliot didn't speak until Hardison stopped at an entrance and said they'd arrived. Then he looked at the lit up sign above the door.

"No way, Hardison,  _no way_ , I'm not doing fucking karaoke with you! Get your friends to go with you and leave me -"

"No, hey, no way, man!" Hardison hurriedly interrupted, "no karaoke! I swear! It's totally a bar too, they've got great local beers, they barely even do karaoke! I never do that - I mean, I never come here for that, I swear! Just beer."

Eliot huffed.

"Come on, I'm buying!" Hardison opened the door and smiled encouragingly at him.

Eliot sighed heavily and stepped inside.

Hardison tried a few more times to make small talk and then, in the face of Eliot's renewed silence, forced himself to stay mostly quiet until they were both a few beers in.

"We're like coworkers, right? This is what coworkers do?"

Eliot glared sideways at him again and took another sip of his beer.

"So you're the strong, silent type, cool, cool, I get it." Hardison drummed his fingers on the bar and bopped his head to something vaguely resembling the beat of the current wailing karaoke song. "I've just never really had coworkers before, y'know? Didn't even really have many friends as a kid, either - well, except for a couple of my foster siblings. My nana, though, she was great. Started hacking as a teenager - I did, I mean, not my nana. It's pretty solitary, y'know? Hacking. We're a pretty competitive bunch us hackers. I like it though."

Eliot ignored him.

"So...I started hacking as a teenager. When, uh, when did you start...hitting...things? Or...retrieving them?"

At Eliot's look Hardison held his hands up.

"Hey, man, I'm just trying to be friendly here - a friendly coworker - I'm just trying to get to know you a little, tell you a little bit 'bout myself, all friendly-like, 'cause we're like colleagues now."

Eliot turned back to his drink and Hardison went back to watching the karaoke stage.

"We could try that - I mean, if you wanted, like a...colleague-bonding exercise thing?"

"Just shut up and drink."

Hardison eagerly latched on to finally getting a verbal response. "I mean, we wouldn't have to do it  _together_ -together, it doesn't have to be a duet or anything, you could totally do it alone and I'll just cheer you on from here! I won't even go close to the stage or anything! It could be fun."

" _No_." Eliot set his glass down and signaled the bartender for another.

Hardison sighed bitterly. "Fine. 'Fun' isn't in your vocabulary. I get it." He dropped a couple bills on the bar and stood up. "I'm gonna do it anyways and I'm gonna have fun and you can just stay here and silently cheer or growl at your beer or whatever, man, your loss. Sorry I tried to be nice."

Eliot ignored him and thanked the bartender instead.

Another beer later and Eliot started heading for the door as Hardison picked up the microphone for a second song.

"What's up, Boston?!" Drunken cheers ring out from the people surrounding the small stage in the corner.

"Listen, my buddy's over there - right over there," he pointed straight at Eliot, "poor bastard just got dumped by his girlfriend -"

A chorus of "aw!"s drowned out the rest of his sentence but Eliot didn't trust the shit-eating grin he could see even from the other side of the bar.

"So I took him out tonight to cheer him up - he  _loves_ to sing and this is his favorite bar, y'know? So I took him out tonight to cheer him up, like the good coworker I am, but he is just not feelin' it and now he's trying to sneak out on me!"

There are chuckles and boos throughout the bar, even from the people standing closest to him.

"I know, I know, right? Y'all think we can get him up here and get him feelin' good?"

The crowd cheered and some guy grabbed Eliot's arm, too drunk or too stupid to cower and let go under Eliot's glare.

"Come on, man!"

More hands reached out and started shoving Eliot back towards the stage. "Yeah, man, come on!" "You can do it!" "She didn't deserve you anyway!"

He stopped short at the foot of the stage and glared at Hardison who grinned unrepentantly and held his hand out. "This is you being nice?" Eliot growled.

"Hey, man, I tried being nice at the bar. This is me getting revenge." He leaned back to the mic, "come on, folks, let's get him up here! Spencer! Spencer! Spencer!"

The crowd took up the chant, "Spencer! Spencer! Spencer!"

Eliot rolled his eyes but grabbed the solid hand in front of him anyways and let Hardison haul him up. People cheered.

"How drunk are they?" Eliot muttered.

"Super drunk," Hardison grinned, "it's 2-for-1 night."

"Alright folks, let's get a little Blue Swede going here! Ooga ooga ooga chaka!" Hardison started and the music kicked in a few beats later.

Eliot shook his head as Hardison started clapping. "Come on, I think he needs a little more encouragement!" He turned to Eliot, "get in here, Spencer!"

Against his better judgement, Eliot chuckled a little and stepped forward.

"IIIIIIIIIIIII'm hooked on a feelin'!"

(Eliot doesn't fall in love standing on a tiny stage to an enthusiastic voice echoing his - it's just the alcohol coursing through his veins and the bright lights that warm him up.)

[ _Eliot didn't fall in love over rubbery spaghetti and burnt sauce from a can._ ]

A weird, slightly burnt smell permeated the whole building, but it wasn't until Eliot walked into the apartment upstairs that he found the source.

"Hey, man! You are just in time to try some of my famous spaghetti bolognese!"

Eliot stared in horror at the counter. "What the hell is that?"

"What?" Hardison glanced over where Eliot was pointing. "Oh, that. That's my secret ingredient."

"Meat sauce from a  _can_ , Hardison?!"

"Hey, there's nothing wrong with using a can."

"Oh, I'm sorry, I must've missed when tomatoes and cows started  _growing out of cans_!"

"Don't even - it's the Day of the Dead, we are honoring my nana and this is the way she always made it, don't even come at me with your fancy tree-grown tomatoes, farmboy."

"Tomatoes don't grow on - Look at that, man, you gotta turn the temperature down -"

"Hey! Hey! No touching the knobs! No! Touching!" Hardison brandished his wooden spoon at Eliot, flinging bits of red sauce of questionable origin around as he did so. "Go sit yo ass down."

Eliot clenched his jaw and glared at him.

"No way, man, no giving me that look, no growling, no big, bad, scary Eliot routine - 'oooooooh, what's he gonna do? grow vegetables at me?' - none of that, not today. A jar of Xtra Meaty Meat Sauce and a lot of love, that was my nana's recipe and that's what I'm gonna do. It's all anyone needs to make a good meal." He turned back to his pasta, shoulders tense and muttering darkly to himself about ungrateful jackasses.

Eliot retreated to the table, where Parker had set herself up with a plastic cauldron full of Halloween candies on her left, and another of locks on her right.

"Wanna practice picking locks? Every lock you open gets you a chocolate, two if you can lock it back up again in less than five seconds."

"OW!" Hardison yelped from across the room. " _Damn it_! No, no, I'm fine, everything's fine here, no worries, y'all keep doing what you're doing, we'll eat in just a bit." He flapped a hand vaguely in Eliot and Parker's direction while sucking on the burnt fingers of the other.

Eliot bit back a sigh and pulled the chocolate-filled cauldron closer to himself only to have a heavy metal lock lobbed at his forehead.

" _Ow_! Damn it, Har - Parker! What the hell?!"

"Chocolates are for people picking locks," she told him sternly, pulling the plastic cauldron back to its original place and pushing the other one towards him.

Eliot sighed.

"Can't you do this kind of stuff in your sleep?" he asked her, fiddling absentmindedly with a lock.

She shrugged. "Well, sure, of course I can. But everyone needs practice, that's how you stay good." She popped her lock open before near-instantaneously locking it back up and triumphantly plucking two peanut butter cups from the chocolate cauldron. Parker only hesitated briefly before offering one to Eliot, who ignored the muttering from the kitchen about ruining their appetites and took it.

Nearly half an hour later, a more despondent Hardison finally sets plates down in front of them.

"It, uh, it might be a little...burnt...around the edges...but I, uh, put some parsley on top?"

Parker peered curiously down at her plate and exchanged a look with Eliot before beaming up at Hardison. "It's your nana's recipe, right? I'm sure it's still good." She enthusiastically took a huge bite. "Mmmm, it's so...good," she chewed determinedly and added pointedly in Eliot's direction, "you can really taste the love that went in it."

Hardison brightened. "Yeah?" He turned to watch Eliot, who barely managed not to flinch when Parker viciously kicked his leg under the table. He picked carefully over his plate, trying to surreptitiously move the black chunks towards the outside of the bowl. "Yeah, you know, burnt, uh, burnt pasta is a...thing in...some places."

"Really?"

"Yeah." Eliot steeled himself before taking a bite and forcing a smile up at Hardison. "It's good."

(Eliot doesn't fall in love to this weird swooping feeling in his stomach when Hardison beams at him before sitting down - it's probably just indigestion from that damn store-bought canned sauce already starting.)

[ _Eliot didn't fall in love in a penthouse suite in Shanghai after a job gone right_.]

"Alright, I think that's enough for us, we're gonna call it a night."

"Aw, Nate, man, come on."

Nate shook his head and pulled Sophie up with him.

"Yes, let's, ah, call it a night. I'm very tired. Good night, everybody!"

"'Night, Sophie, Nate."

Hardison waited for them to get out of earshot before leaning forward. "They are not subtle."

"No," Eliot chuckled, drink in hand, "not at all."

"So, what now?" Hardison asked, looking back and forth between the other two, "Do we all go to bed? Keep celebrating?"

Eliot shrugged. "It's still early."

"Go fish!"

Both of them turned to Parker.

"You want to go find a dock that allows public fishing right now?" Eliot asked skeptically. "I didn't even bring my gear with me and Hardison always scares all of the fish away anyways."

Parker smiled and pulled a deck of cards out of her already-packed carry-on.

"Let's play Go Fish."

"Let's play something else, anything else, let's play poker."

"No way," Parker refused, already dealing the cards into three neat stacks, "I never gamble on card games I can't control. I'm not going to risk losing my  _money_."

"Just go with it," Hardison waved his hand at Eliot, "this way I only lose a little of my dignity and none of my money. And it's not really as bad as you think, winner gets a favor of their choice. Sometimes I get her to cosplay with me at a con, sometimes I have to go parachuting with her." He eyed Parker suspiciously, "actually, most of the time I lose and end up jumping off of something high. Once I got her to dress up as Nurse Chapel."

She shrugged innocently and, 20 minutes and copious amounts of bickering over potential cheating later, declared victory.

"I win." Parker smirked.

Eliot and Hardison groaned in unison, Hardison covering his face with one hand and Eliot slumping down to let his head hit the table with a thump.

"This is a stupid game. You cheated. I don't know how, but you cheated."

"How is it cheating if you don't even know what I did?"

Eliot's head shot back up. "So you did cheat!"

"No, I didn't."

"Then what did you do?"

"I won."

Eliot groaned again and poured himself another drink.

"Alright, baby," Hardison sighed, dragging his hand down his face, "claim your prize, what's it gonna be?" Parker smiled proudly at him before turning to Eliot.

"You."

Eliot shook his head, confused. "What?"

Hardison wasn't confused. "Uh, Parker, babe, I know we talked about - but I don't think Eliot - I mean, I don't think he really wants - that he's ready to want -"

"It's my prize to choose," she interrupted, gazing steadily at Eliot, "I can at least  _ask_." Parker turned to Hardison and added softly, "hey, we're okay, right? whatever works, right?"

He smiled fondly at her and covered her hand with his own. "Yeah, babe, we all work okay." He stroked the back of her hand with his thumb as Eliot's brain desperately struggled to catch up.

"So?" Parker turned back to Eliot and tilted her head, a satisfied smile still playing on her lips. "You coming to bed with us?"

Later, Eliot will swear - if only to himself - that too many shots of baiju is the only reason he said "yes."

(Eliot doesn't fall in love to the feel of blonde hair tickling the side of his neck and high, breathless laughter in his ear and a warm mouth slowly making its way down his chest - it's just good old-fashioned lust burning through his veins and not getting laid in way too long that's making everything feel this good.)

[ _Eliot didn't fall in love on a Wednesday in a café to a goddamned Taylor Swift song_.]

"Someone needs to teach that girl to wear headphones when she's listening to music in public."

Parker patted his arm absentmindedly as she scanned the chalkboard menu above the counter. "You're just jet-lagged and grumpy, let's get some coffee and pastries in you."

Eliot grumbled to himself as they inched forward in line. "I'm just saying, it's rude, blasting music out of a crappy phone speaker. This is why everyone hates American tourists."

"You don't even know she's American," Parker pointed out. "Besides, no one hate's us, we're not tourists, we're working."

Eliot snorted. "She's listening to Taylor Swift."

"Really? How do you know that's Taylor Swift?"

"It's - I just - I don't - I don't know - Remind me again why I'm here instead of your boyfriend."

"Because I can't carry five coffees with two hands and Hardison's setting up all of his equipment."

" _I_ could be back at the hotel setting up that equipment."

"Really?" Parker raised an eyebrow at him.

They stepped forward again.

"Maybe. I could at least give it a shot."

"Imagine getting two of his wires crossed or in the wrong plugs or something though, you'd never hear the end of it."

"What about Sophie?"

"Are you kidding? Sophie's in Paris with Nate on the same side as her for the first time, we'll be lucky if they even come up for air before the con starts."

She stepped up to the counter. "Besides," she threw over her shoulder at him, "you're practically my boyfriend too."

Eliot stood slightly stunned and stock still while she ordered in rapid-fire French. He couldn't - didn't even know  _how_ \- to respond to that, so he glanced around the somewhat crowded café instead, mentally noting exits, possible threats, and potential makeshift weapons out of habit. He turned his attention back to the front where, given the look on his face, Parker was apparently terrorizing the poor pastry guy who finally nodded to whatever she'd said.

"Psst, look evil and satisfied."

Eliot smirked on command and the pastry guy skittered away towards the back.

"Should I even bother asking?"

"You'll see."

A moment later, a different guy in an apron came out and handed a brown paper bag to the cashier, keeping his head down and avoiding eye contact with Eliot. The cashier grinned.

"Cinq cafés, cinq croissants, et un espèce de beigne - au style Boston, bien sûr - pour votre chum. C'est tout?"

"Oui, merci."

Parker paid, grabbed the bag and a couple coffees, and moved aside for Eliot to get the others. They stepped outside and when Eliot turned towards their hotel, Parker jerked her head in the opposite direction.

"Come on, you need fresh air, let's go drink ours on the water."

"The others'll be waiting."

"So? There's an electric cafetière in the room, they'll be fine. They can wait." She nodded in the direction of the river again. "Come _onnnnn_ ," she dragged the second word out, "you know you want to."

Eliot shook his head but, with an almost-laugh, followed her anyways.

(Eliot doesn't fall in love to the taste of a special-ordered, make-shift Boston cream doughnut thousands of miles away from home - it's just the way Parker's recounting how she got the pastry guy to make it that has him laughing so hard he feels lightheaded.)

[ _Eliot didn't fall in love at some regional convention for a mark's legitimate business._ ]

"Look, man, we made contact, now let's get on a plane and get out of here until what's-his-name calls Sophie."

" _Or_ ," Hardison stopped Eliot with a hand on his shoulder, "and I'm just thinking out loud here, y'know, just throwing an idea out there, super casual, I didn't plan anything, don't have tickets, nothing -"

"Just spit it out."

"We could get a car, drive a few hours, and hit up Comic Con?" Hardison suggested, eyes wide.

"No."

"Aw, come on, man, you didn't even think about it!"

"Okay," Eliot looked up at the ceiling and hummed thoughtfully before focusing back on Hardison. "Still no."

"It'll be fun!"

"There's nothing fun about going to see a bunch of nerds falling all over themselves to get an autograph from the Star...Wars guy."

"See now, it's "age of the geek," and you know it, and I know you're just trying to make me angry by mixing up Wars and Trek again, but they actually do both start with 'Stars' so you got it right."

Eliot glared at him. "The Trek Wars guy."

"Come on, I bet they'll have a ton of stuff for the new Star Wars movie!"

"Like stuff about Parker's favorite, CGI Yoda?"

"Low blow, man, low blow. And you went to Parker's art museum! It's only fair you come with me too."

Eliot grumbled under his breath.

"What's that?"

"I said, 'I lost at that stupid game again.' That's why I went."

Hardison grinned, delighted.

"Not one word," Eliot growled. "Look, even if I did say yes - which I'm  _not_ , got it?"

"Yeah, yeah, of course not," Hardison agreed quickly.

"Even if I did, isn't that the kind of thing you have to get tickets for months in advance? You're always complaining about how quickly the damn thing sells out and how it's against your Geek Code or whatever to just hack in and steal someone else's tickets."

"Comic Con tickets are  _sacred_ , Eliot, it'd be like stealing someone's baby!"

Eliot rolled his eyes.

"Also, I may have tickets," Hardison told him, all fake innocence.

"Say 'yay, Biannual Southwestern Regional Pulp and Paper Product Manufacturer's Conference!'"

They both turned to the woman with an organizer's badge and a photographer. She giggled.

"Or just say 'cheese!'"

"Cheeeeeese."

Eliot grimaced vaguely at the camera and waited for them both to leave before exhaling forcefully.

"Fine," he muttered.

"Yeah?! Alright, woo!" Hardison cheered, slinging an arm around Eliot's shoulders. "San Diego, here we come!" He danced a little at Eliot's side. "Two good old boys, renting a car, gonna see the guy from that movie 'bout Mars," he sang.

Eliot groaned, "not another song."

"No? Not that one? Alright then, how about 'two good old boys, hittin' the con, gonna get their party on from dusk to dawn!'"

"Not my kind of party."

"Two good old boys, doin' Diego, collecting swag in their Winnebago!"

"We are not renting a damn RV, Hardison."

"No, you're right, still not as catchy as 'chasing down bad guys in Lucille,' I'll keep working on it." He paused as they left the building before adding brightly, "two good old boys, in a Buick, gettin' their kicks on Route 66!"

"Make it a Mercedes and we can go to the thing for that show with the zombies."

"Yeah, man, that's the spirit!" He patted Eliot's chest enthusiastically. "Wait until you see the costumes I brought!"

"Damn it, Hardison," Eliot said, shoving him off lightly, "no costumes. You always take it way too far."

Undiscouraged, Hardison slung his arm around Eliot again and steered them towards the parking lot. "You're gonna make a great Kennex, man, and I'll be your Dorian! We just gotta do something with your hair, it's way too long."

"You're not touching my goddamn hair."

Hardison leaned in further with a smug, promising smile. "A night in a hotel and a five hour drive tomorrow? I still got plenty of time to convince you."

(Eliot doesn't fall in love to a mild wind against the back of his bare neck and the feel of a solid hand in his pulling him along through the massive crowd pressing in on all sides - it's just Hardison's joy and excitement as he weaves his way from booth to booth that's infectious.)

[ _Eliot fell in love on a Tuesday._ ]

In the end, there was no special moment, no romantic candlelight or fancy food, no dark tuxedos or silver dresses, no fanfare, not even a life-or-death situation. There was Parker, unceremoniously dumping her feet in his lap and crunching on cereal louder than should be humanly possible, and there was Hardison, whining about the latest injustice done to his beloved Doctor Who. Just another unremarkable, grey, drizzly Tuesday between jobs in Portland.

"You're a cat burglar, how do you make that much noise chewing?!" He grabbed her wiggling feet by the ankles and carefully moved them down on to his knees, glaring at her without any real fire.

Parker didn't answer, just crunched pointedly in his direction and Eliot let his head fall and thump against the back of their shared sofa.

"And don't even get me  _started_ on -"

"No one's getting you started, Hardison," Eliot reminded him tiredly, "all I wanted was a damn day off without rain."

"It's always raining," Parker shoved another spoonful of cereal in her mouth. "Tha's wha' Sophie's a'ways complainin' 'bout," she swallowed. "Nothing ever changes here."

Eliot looked down at her feet in his lap. "Everything changes eventually."

She wriggled her toes. "Don't be silly, why would anything change?"

"Parker..." Eliot trailed off and shrugged. "You really think all of us are gonna stay like this forever? Everything changes eventually."

"We'll change together, though," Parker said nonchalantly, looking down at her bowl of cereal.

"Yeah?" Eliot asked with a half-smile, hand still on her ankles. "Promise?" he asked her half-seriously.

"Promise," she told him solemnly, eyes bright.

They smiled at each other for a few moments before Eliot turned to Hardison and interrupted his rant.

"Hey, man, promise me something."

Hardison stopped mid-word and glared at Eliot.

"What? You're not even listening at all, are you?!" he asked incredulously. "This is an iconic show - an  _institution_  - with a  _50 year history_ , Eliot, and it's being run by -"

"We change together," Eliot cut him off.

Hardison blinked at him a couple times and turned to Parker.

"We change together," she echoed, "you have to promise."

He paused, looking between Parker's insistent nodding and Eliot's steady gaze, then stepped towards them.

"Yeah, okay," he said, reaching towards Eliot, "we change together. Better or worse."

"Promise."

"I promise."

(Eliot falls in love on a Tuesday to small feet kneading his thigh and a droning on somewhere behind him and it feels...)

(It feels like safety and relief. It feels like newly found camaraderie and the fuzzy warmth of just one beer too many. It feels like lust and awe and lightheadedness. It feels like friendship amplified, like vicarious joys and being cared for wrapped together with commitment. Parker kisses his cheek and Hardison grips his shoulder tightly, and Eliot feels something warm burning brightly inside him that almost feels a little like indigestion.)

(It feels like nothing's changed.)

[ _Eliot fell in love and his whole world changed_.]

**Author's Note:**

> so, this fic has existed in, like, three different versions in my head over the past couple of months and what with the timing & general craziness of the holidays, I ended up with this somewhat abridged, image-light, dialogue-heavy version, so I hope you still enjoy it! & I'm hoping this vaguely counts as ~realizations for you. Merry Christmas Deb!!


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